A Momentary Respite

I belong in the woods. Every time I leave them I feel like I've left part of my soul behind. I feel a peace amongst the trees that I don't feel anywhere else. There is a buoyant hope deep down inside that effortlessly rises to my surface. I feel more real, more alive, more in tune with God and the rest He is always inviting me to find in Him. My souls feels quiet. Even when my mind refuses to relax, on the whole I feel less anxious.

In my life I feel as if I've been tumbling. Tumbling down...down....down... some bump and boulder riddled hill with no end in sight. But now, as I sit in these woods on the back stoop of a cabin, I feel as though I've finally come to a stop. As I catch my breath on this earthen ledge overlooking the rocky descent below I know, without a doubt, that when I pack up my things and leave these trees tomorrow, I will tumble faster and faster down that hill with each mile I put between us. I'm powerless to stop it.

The Price of This Pace

My grandmother died today, and I'm angry.

I'm not angry at God, or strokes, or doctors. I'm angry at myself.

If These Eyes Could Only See

Last weekend was a weekend full of excitement. Among the many events going on, the highlights were the "Picture Party" for the team I traveled to Haiti with, and our church's spring baptism service where 9 people I love were baptized, including my 2 oldest children and one of my closest friends! It was a whirlwind of excitement and joy where, for the first time since being in Haiti, I felt as if I were on mission for God almost constantly.

Reuniting with the Haiti team was such a blessing. When you spend a week in constant, deeply personal & spiritual community with a group of people, then you are thrust back into your life like being shoved off a moving train, it can be a little jarring.